"Have you already awakened, Kallen Stadtfeld? Or do you prefer to go by Kallen Kozuki, your Eleven name?" the blonde-haired man asked with a chuckle, his smirk cold and amused.
His piercing blue eyes were beautiful, almost mesmerizing, but beneath the elegance of his voice was something darker, a sinister charm that made Kallen's expression instantly harden.
She glared at him, eyes filled with pure hatred. "Just kill me already, Prince Clovis. You've won. There's nothing left to say between us."
"A shame, truly. I thought we might have something to talk," Clovis replied smoothly, his tone calm but laced with quiet malice. "Do you know what will happen to your dear mother once you're gone, Kallen? Your father is ashamed of your actions. Your stepmother loathes the very sight of you. Without you around, who do you think they'll take it out on?"
Then the screen flickered on.
Kallen's breath caught. Her mother was no longer in prison, no longer locked away for her drug addiction. She was free now. Freed by Clovis himself. A "gift."
But freedom had its price.
Inside prison, her mother was untouchable—protected by the system, at least in some capacity. But outside? She was fair game. Vulnerable.
A perfect target.
Her father could vent his shame. Her stepmother could pour out her hate. They could beat her, scream at her, break her, whatever they pleased.
And yet, what made Kallen's stomach twist wasn't the inevitable abuse, but the image on the screen. Her mother, smiling. Humming to herself while tending a small garden in a modest apartment. Happy. Oblivious. Like a child who didn't know that monsters were waiting just outside her door.
"You… You bastard…" Kallen whispered, eyes burning with rage and helplessness as she stared at Clovis.
Words failed her.
She couldn't even articulate the disgust, the dread, the fury bubbling inside her.
And Clovis knew it.
That's why it worked. His offer, his threats—his twisted kindness.
Kallen's legs gave out slightly as she slumped back in her seat, not because she was weak, but because her will had cracked.
"What do you want, Prince Clovis?" she asked bitterly.
In the end, she folded under the pressure. There was no other choice. She had to ask, had to know what price he expected her to pay.
"You make me sound like a villain, Kallen," Clovis said with mock hurt. "But I'm the good guy here. I released your mother. She's safe. She's happy. That should count for something, shouldn't it?"
If she could've rolled her eyes, she would've. Hard.
You self-righteous psychopath, she thought.
She had been to one of his private banquets before. She saw what he did when things didn't go his way, the cruelty hidden beneath fake smiles and noble talk.
"Yes, thank you for your overwhelming generosity, Prince Clovis," she said, forcing a fake smile that didn't even try to hide the venom behind it.
Clovis merely shrugged, finally dropping the pleasantries. "Let's not waste more time. I want you to work for me, Kallen Stadtfeld. Britannia needs you. I need you. You're a capable fighter, an elite pilot. We could do great things together."
"It's not happening," she snapped instantly. "You killed my friends. You destroyed everything we built. And now you're using my mother like some bargaining chip. You really think I'd betray the revolution for that?"
"Ah, yes. The revolution." Clovis chuckled darkly, his smile widening. "A ragtag bunch of idealists with inflated egos and nothing to show for it but scattered safehouses and propaganda."
She wanted to argue, to scream, to slap the smugness off his face.
But she couldn't.
Because deep down, she knew he wasn't wrong.
The resistance was fractured. Disorganized. Officially, even the former Japanese government-in-exile refused to acknowledge them, labeling them terrorists, not freedom fighters.
And right now, that bitter truth cut deeper than Clovis's words ever could.
Seeing her in that state, Clovis let out a sigh, one that carried more weariness than pity. "Do you even understand what a revolution means, Kallen? You didn't fail because you were weak. You failed because no one guided you, no one led your so-called revolution. That's why they died. That's why your cause fell apart. It wasn't personal. It was business. I didn't hate them... I don't even hate you."
Kallen stayed silent for a long moment, the anger in her eyes burning cold. "That doesn't erase the fact that you killed them. You think I'd ever work for you? That's impossible. No matter how you try to twist the perspective, it'll never happen."
Clovis let out a deliberately exaggerated sigh, almost theatrical in its delivery. "I'm disappointed in you, Kallen. Truly. Turns out you're no different than the rest. Revolution? For you, it was nothing but a mask, a tool for selfish desires and buried rage."
"I'm not like that. You're twisting my words, Prince Clovis," she shot back, her voice hard and sharp. "You never understood me, and you never will. How could a spoiled prince like you even begin to try?"
"Yes. I don't understand you and just as much, you don't understand me." Clovis took a step forward, his tone dropping, heavier. "Do you know how much I loathe my father? My family? The whole royal court, dressing themselves up like noble pigs while they rot from the inside out?"
He glared down at her, his voice filled with disgust.
"But you, oh, you scream, 'I hate Britannia! They took my homeland! They killed my brother!' Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. But let me tell you something, Kallen: that's not revolution. That's revenge. You didn't fight for justice. You fought to watch the empire burn."
His words hit like bullets. Kallen's hands clenched into fists, but she said nothing.
Clovis kept going, relentless. "You let your emotions drive you. You let rage blind you, cloud your judgment, waste every advantage you ever had."
He placed a hand on his chest. "But me? I use emotion. I control it. I wield it as a weapon. Not for weakness, but for manipulation, influence, power. Emotions help me connect with others, make them trust me, follow me. Same goes for you, Kallen. And it's a pity, you never figured that out."
"It makes me human when I need to be. And that's the difference between us. You let it consume you. I let it serve me."
Kallen's heart burned with something she couldn't name.
Was it shame? Rage? Or a reluctant realization? She saw the disdain on Clovis' face, so calm, so smug and it made her sick.
"I'm not what you say I am, Clovis," she muttered. "I did want the best for my country… I still do."
"Then prove it. Work for me." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Let me show you how this ends. I'm the only one who can break this cycle of hate. I can bring peace. You're free to betray me if I fail, walk away if I don't deliver what you want. But until then… fight with me."
Kallen stared at him, her heart heavy.
Even though she was technically free, she had nowhere else to go. Her comrades were dead. Her so-called revolution was dust. The exiled government wanted nothing to do with her. The nobles despised her. And the world?
The world had no place for an Eleven girl like her, not in Britannia, not in the United Europa Federation. The racism against her kind was too deeply rooted. She was unwanted, discarded.
Except by the man standing before her now.
She exhaled, slow and bitter. "You win, Prince Clovis. I'll work for you. But on my terms."
"Good." Clovis clapped his hands once, loud and satisfied, the grin on his face widening.
He stepped forward and extended his hand. "Happy cooperation, Kallen."
She stared at it for a moment, then slowly reached out and took it, her grip stiff and cold. "Yeah. Happy cooperation, Prince Clovis."
With that simple handshake, the deal was sealed.
Kallen Kouzuki, once a freedom fighter, once a rebel was now part of Prince Clovis' faction.
Whether it was survival or betrayal, only time would tell.